


No Choice (A One-Shot About Murdoc's Mother)

by Dollz



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: 1960s, Angst, Bad Parenting, Conflict, Crying, Depression, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family, Family Drama, Family Issues, Gaslighting, Hopeful Ending, Hurt, Mental Institutions, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mother-Son Relationship, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Sad, Sad Ending, Separations, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dollz/pseuds/Dollz
Summary: Many are familiar with Sebastian Niccals, Murdoc's father, but very little do people know about his mother, Daria Vulpe. Having her child taken away from her by social services when he was only six months old, the poor young woman was trapped within Belphegor Sanatorium, falsely diagnosed with the made up disease of "female hysteria", and with no way of seeing her child. However, one day, six days after her son was unfairly snatched from her, she gets an unexpected visitor...
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	No Choice (A One-Shot About Murdoc's Mother)

_December 12th, 1966_

It was a Monday, thirteen days before Christmas, and six days since Murdoc has been taken away... Trapped inside the walls Belphegor Sanatorium, Daria Vulpe was sitting on the uncomfortable beige plaid mattress of her cheap metal-framed bed, staring out the window hopelessly. Her thick long raven hair was completely disheveled, there were heavy dark circles around her eyes due to lack of sleep, her eyes were still bloodshot and puffy from crying so much, her cheeks still had light mascara stains, and she was wearing periwinkle blue flannel pajamas with navy blue polka dots, along with a white bathrobe. The look of a devastated mother, forced to cope with the pain of no longer being able to see her son.

She spent all morning sorrowfully gazing at the outside, occasionally taking a puff of her lit cigarette, and hasn’t eaten a bite of her breakfast. The hot cup of coffee that has been brought to her earlier has long gone cold, the already watery porridge has gone completely stale, the butter completely melted, and the batter bun probably began to mold at that point. She didn’t care, though. She didn’t want to eat. All she wanted to do was get out of that wretched shithole of a halfway house, so that she could get her baby back.

The boy was only six months old, and he was snatched from her hands. It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t hysterical. It wasn’t fair that she had to be contained, while the poor child was being put under the “care” of the sadistic bastard who got her locked up in this hell. He was dangerous, she tried to warn both the doctor, nurses, and the social services, but nobody believed her. After all, who would believe a “deranged” woman who attempted to “kidnap” Hannibal? If only they knew what kind of a monster she was trying to protect the kid from...

Daria then faced away from the window and looked at the sad empty corner of her room, where a baby cot used to be. With Murdoc no longer with her, there was no longer a use for it. Everything was confiscated. The blue dummy, the knot stitch blanket, the rattle, the rubber ducky, and the teddy… All gone. Nothing to remember him by. She would’ve asked for the photos and videos that were taken of them, but she knew the nurses wouldn’t have given her anything, seeing the way they view her sanity. She let out a somber sigh, before directing her attention to the cigarette she was holding. She scowled at it, before putting it out in her ashtray.

Then, she heard a knock at the door.

“Miss Vulpe?” A meek, mousy voice spoke up. Daria immediately recognized it as Poppy, one of the more soft-spoken nurses.

“What?” The raven-haired woman responded harshly, clearly annoyed and not looking to be bothered.

“... Your mother is here to see you.” The squeaky-pitched girl answered with hesitance. 

Daria raised a brow. Her mother…? What was she doing here?

“Let her come in.” She called out. The nurse then opened the door, revealing herself, and the tall fifty-year-old woman at her side. She bore a strong resemblance to her daughter, except she was visibly twenty-six years older, had much stronger features, sharper cheekbones, and was of a larger height. She was wearing a pine green sheath dress, a tweed jacket of the same color, a matching pillbox hat with a net, a pair of black tights, a pair of white high heels, a pair of black lace gloves, and a white pearl necklace. She was sporting lime eyeshadow, black mascara, and red lipstick. Her raven hair was in a curly bob, and her dark eyes were looking down at her child with an icy stare, almost as if she’ll strike any minute. Daria let out sigh, expecting that woman only came to lecture her, like she always did.

“I’ll be outside if you need anything.” Poppy muttered softly, as she began to walk out.

“That won’t be necessary.” Daria’s mother responded with her thick Romanian accent, before the nurse closed the door behind her. The halfway house patient turned away from her, ready for whatever snide comments and harsh criticisms that the wicked woman had prepared. However, much to her surprise, that didn’t happen. Instead, the lady’s expression softened as she sat down on the bed and gently wrapped her arms around her daughter. Daria immediately froze.

“Oh, fiică mea, I’m so happy to see you!” The woman exclaimed. Daria raised a brow in suspicion. This wasn’t like her mother to be… sentimental. Why wasn’t she scolding her about her appearance, the state of her room, and the fact that she was even in a halfway house in the first place? Something wasn’t right…

“Your father, brother, and I were so worried.” She continued, stroking her daughter’s hair. It made the young adult feel uneasy.

“How did you know I was here?” Daria questioned with a raised brow.

“Your doctor called me and told me what happened. Oh lord, you poor thing... I can’t even imagine what you must be going through right now.” Daria’s mother explained.

“I am so sorry that I let this happen, Daria. I should’ve been more attentive to you, and I shouldn’t have let you fend for yourself like this… Well, no more. Your mother’s here to help you now.” She stated in a sympathetic tone, squishing her now 24-year-old child’s cheeks, much to her dismay.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, and pack your things. We’re leaving.” The middle-aged lady added, as she reached into her black leather purse for handkerchief.

“What? Leaving? Where?” Daria asked with widened eyes, as her remaining bits of mascara were being wiped off by the piece of cloth.

“Why home, of course. I talked to your doctor and we-” The green-clad housewife responded with a light-hearted smile, before being interrupted by the former hairdresser.

“No, wait. I can’t leave for London, I need to get Murdoc back first.” She exclaimed, her voice filled with worry. She didn’t even want to imagine how Sebastian must’ve been looking after him.  
  


“Daria, we’ll take care of that later. We get you ready first.” The strangely calm woman replied, as she put away the handkerchief, and took out a black comb. She didn’t ask who Murdoc was, confirming that she was told about him by the doctor.

“Did you talk to Dr. Cook about him? Are we gonna pick him up on the way?” The now slightly agitated mental patient asked sternly.

“Daria, we need to get ready. Come on, you look like a complete mess.” Her mother said in that same sugary tone, as she began to comb her daughter’s hair. Daria furrowed her brows, annoyed. Why was she being so nonchalant?

“Quit avoiding the question. Are we gonna pick him up?” She questioned in a more hardened tone. She began to grow even more suspicious of the Romanian woman sitting beside.

“Keep calm, fiică mea. We’ll discuss it in the car. Right now we need to focus-” Her child’s grandmother tried to say in an assuring tone, but was cut off by a scream.

“Answer my question!” Daria demanded loudly, slapping the older woman’s hand away from her hair. She wanted to know why she was being so dismissive.

“Don’t you raise your voice at me like that, young lady!” Mrs. Vulpe yelled back in that authoritarian tone of voice that her daughter knew all too well as a little girl.

“Then quit dodging my question! Are we gonna pick him up or not!?” The now angry young dame shouted.

“Daria-” Her mother started with a cold tone, before being interrupted once again.

“Answer me!” The daughter shrieked, her furious voice piercing the air, turning it cold. Silence filled the room. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting for any kind of response from the woman that gave her life, Daria came to a haunting realization.

“... You’re not planning on helping me get him back, aren’t you?” The raven-haired spitfire muttered, narrowing her eyes at the speechless hag, making her let out a sigh.

“... My child, you have to understand. This town… It’s filled with delinquents and filth, not to mention the toll it took on your mind… For the sake of your condition and health, we need to leave it all behind, and that includes all attachments, and I know that it will come with its fair share of sacrifices-” The insistent woman explained in a disgustingly gentle tone, before being cut off.

“Sacrifices!? You want me to abandon my baby for the sake of ‘leaving it all behind'!?” The appalled young woman screamed, horrified that her mother would even think of saying something that horrid and heartless.

“I know that it’ll be difficult, but it’ll become easier to forget with time.” The unbelievably unapologetic crone tried to assure her, but to no avail.

“Easier to forget!? What the hell!? You’re saying that I should forget my own child!? Your grandson!” Daria shouted, absolutely revolted by her words, and even more repulsed by the fact that she was trying to make it sound like a good thing.

“Daria, I promise you, once we’ll get home, I will help you get better. I will become your official caretaker, and you will soon return to your normal state. You will find yourself a good man, and have a new baby.” The somehow still tranquil woman said in a bizarrely composed voice.

“A new baby!? So you’re just expecting me to just replace him like some kind of old broken toy!?” The former barber yelled, shocked she would even view her own grandchild as replaceable. She could feel her own blood boil.

“He wouldn’t belong in our home, Daria. We’re doing this for his own good. He’s much better off with his father, and you're in no condition to be a mother yet. Besides, what do you think our neighbors will think if you were to raise a fatherless boy?” The middle-aged woman responded.

“So that’s it! You’re not worried about me or him… You’re worried about your own reputation!” Daria exclaimed in realization. Her mother hasn’t at all changed from the hateful old banshee that she always knew.

“Daria, you need to realize how important this is. He will make it difficult for you to start over or find yourself a husband.” Her mother stated, as her composure slowly began to crumble.

“I don’t give a rat’s arse about whether or not I’ll get a husband! I don’t care about starting over! I want my son with me!” The once aspiring guitarist cried.

“Young lady, language!” The old bat scolded her in a high-strung manner.

“I don’t bloody care!” Her daughter bawled, as hot tears of rage began escaping her dark eyes, and rolling down her cheeks.

“This is for your own good, Daria. We need to go home now. You need help.” The provoked lady sternly explained through her gritted teeth.

“I don’t need help! I never needed help! How many times do I have to say it to you arseholes!? I am not crazy! I’m not hysterical! I am fine! Why won’t you listen to me!?” Daria shrieked, seeing red. She was absolutely exhausted from having to hear those accusations every single damned day.

“I am your mother! You listen to me!” The older woman demanded, trying to regain control over the situation.

“You. Are not. My mother… You are a tyrant over my life!” The young dame screamed, losing herself in her temper completely.

“How dare you speak to me this way!?” The no longer docile gorgon shouted.

“Shut up! Listen to me for once in your fucking life!” Daria yelled, rendering the venomous snake that was beside her completely speechless.

“Ever since I was little, you never once asked me what I wanted. You always chose everything for me. You never gave me a choice in what to wear, what to do, or what to say. Everything in my life has been arranged by you! You are never satisfied with me unless you have complete control over me. I am my own person! I am not your doll for you to dress up! Why can’t you understand that!?” She ranted.

“You always had high expectations for me to become the perfect lady, but that’s not what I am! I am not perfect! I am human! You can’t constantly punish me for that!” The young mother continued, more tears stinging her eyes.

“And despite what you may think, you don’t understand what I’m going through! You don’t want to understand! You just want to sweep everything under the rug, and hope that everything will get better! You just want to pretend like nothing ever happened, because you think it’ll ruin your stupid perfect life!” The mental patient continued, clenching her fists.

“You don’t actually care about my health or feelings! You just found an opportunity to get control back over me. You think that I’m vulnerable, and that this is a perfect chance for you to convince me to come back to that hell of a household! You want me to return to my old feeble little self that constantly relied on you! Well, you were wrong! I am not vulnerable or weak, and I sure as hell don’t need you anymore!” She shouted, completely confident in what she was saying, because she knew that it was far from a lie.

“You’re twisting it all around! You’re unwell! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” The woman who ruined her life screamed.

“Don’t I? You just don’t want to accept the bitter truth! You never cared about what’s best for me! All you care about is yourself!” Daria screamed back.

“You’re acting like a child right now.” The housewife scoffed in disgust.

“And that’s another thing! Every time I try to speak up, you undermine and invalidate my feelings, making me feel stupid! You never think that anything is your fault, and you always made me feel purposely guilty for being myself!” The dark-eyed spitfire

“Enough! We’re going home now. Your father and brother-” The green-clad woman commanded strictly, only to be interrupted.

“Oh, and speaking of! Where are they?” The former sharp-tongued hairstylist asked in a spiteful manner.

“... What?” The banshee stammered out, flabbergasted.

“Where are dad and Mircea? You said that they were worried for me, so why aren’t they here?” Daria questioned, already knowing the answer. As she expected, she was met with deafening silence.

“... That’s what I thought.” She responded bluntly, turning away.  
  


“... Please, just come home. You need this.” The middle-aged woman begged in a shaky voice, growing desperate, but her daughter knew better than to pity her.

“No, I don’t.” The halfway house inmate replied venomously.

“You never once reached out to me until this moment. You were ready to completely forget about me, until you heard that I was here. You hoped that I would be desperate and lost enough to leave this new hell for the old one. You don’t want to understand me or take care of me… All you want is a chance to mold me into something you always wanted me to be… Something that I’m not... Under any other circumstances, you would’ve never come to visit me.” She explained, knowing that it was the truth.

“When I left six years ago, you lost complete control over me, and you hated that. You resent me for gaining freedom and becoming my own individual. You couldn't cope with the truth, so you decided to move on. You threw out and burned everything I left behind in our house. You probably also lied to our neighbors about my whereabouts, because you were so ashamed of me. You wanted to erase my existence, so you wouldn’t have to feel embarrassed, because your image was always more important than our actual family. I am not up to your fucking standards, and despite how much you wish for it, I never will be.” The raven-haired young woman continued, confident in every single word.

“All I wanted was for you to love me as I am, but you didn’t. All you did throughout my life was criticize and hurt me, telling me that I constantly need to be ‘fixed’.” She added, glaring at the ground, her eyes burning from all the crying.

“I would never wish that kind of childhood on anyone else, especially my own son.” The disheveled dame stated.

“His father is a monster and a bastard, and he is a hundred times worse than you, and I’d be damned if I leave him behind here.” She hissed.

“I want to get out of here, more than anything, but I will only leave with my baby. I’d rather waste away my years in this rubbish place waiting to reunite with him, than go back to live with you and be forced to forget about him. I love Murdoc more than anything, and I will choose him over you any day, whether you like it or not.” Daria finished, putting emphasis on the last six words without any sort of hesitation.

“... If that’s the way you feel, then you are no longer welcome at home.” Her mother responded stiffly, standing up from the bed.

“... Good. I wouldn’t think of coming back anyway.” The daughter said truthfully, her voice oozing venom. The now defeated older woman stood up and headed towards the door.

“... Goodbye, Daria.” She sighed, placing her hand on the cold doorknob.

“Goodbye... Alexandra.” Daria replied, calling the wretched woman by her true name. Not mother… Not mum… Just Alexandra, and that’s all she will ever be to the raven-haired woman from now on. Alexandra winced at the icy response, before opening the door, leaving and closing it behind her. As her footsteps slowly faded, not even a single ounce of regret was inside Daria’s body as laid down on her bed. She made her choice, and she was going to stand by it, most importantly, she kept her dignity. She promised herself that day that she would wait and fight as long as she has to in order to convince all those other morons that she didn’t belong at Belphegor Sanatorium. She wasn’t sick, there wasn’t anything wrong with her, and she wasn’t going to let anyone tell her otherwise. She knew her own mind better than anyone, she wasn’t going to let some arses speak for her. She made a vow to hold on and stay strong... for Murdoc.


End file.
